Update
It is now a whole 5 days after the 22nd month anniversary. A whole 5 days have passed without my frantic rush to complete the task of updating “my life after Jack’s.” I have learned that that proverbial phrase, “Time heals all wounds,” is so true. There is less urgency, fewer “sacred emotional cows” to avoid, and what was once 22-months ago thought as “I’ll never be able to do that” has been done. Truly, life goes on and my life WITH IT.
And it isn’t like he’s not still with me. I look at the walls of my home and I realize that, although he had absolutely nothing to do with any part of remodeling I have done, I missed him for that very reason: he wasn’t a part of the remodeling I have done. In another unrelated incident this month, in a softball game, I jammed my left ring finger and my first thought when I pulled the already swelling digit out of my softball mitt, was “Oh, no, I won’t be able to get my wedding ring on.” I haven’t worn it there for over 8 months, but I quickly reverted back to what was. Upon my lap, as I type, is my new dog, a 10.5 year 9 lb. rat terrier, a rescue. On numerous occasions, I can see Jack just loving her, she loving him, and she would be on his lap watching ESPN. It is then that I am struck how much I miss sharing my life now with the man I knew then…and how all of that implies that time has passed by without him.
I intentionally avoid the 28th in writing this update, but didn’t intend to go pass the date quite this far. I found that the 28th carries such sadness for me and I write more depressed than I am the previous or even following day. I thought the other day that I am looking forward to the passing of time when I won’t be able to pinpoint exactly and quickly how long we’ve been apart; that I would have to stop and figure it out. I think the 28th will always be a day that I pause and reflect, though. I hope that I just lose the “count-up” of how many months and it becomes only the anniversary of “the day” that carries the most weight. I hope.
At times, I am amazed of what I have done, that I am moving forward, or as someone as noted, “I show up” for my life. On some level, what I have done is very empowering and I have to chuckle to myself that I’m one tough dog to endure such a tragedy and keep going on. It just hurts to do it alone, and so young, too.
That was why the dog has been such a gift to my heart and soul, making this house more of a home. At one point, I had the option of remaining a foster owner with the rescue agency, because then they would take all responsibility for medical and decisions. I realized that, in adopting “Anna BB,” no one had my back, it was all my decisions and responsibilities, just like it was with Annie B at her end. I was missing Jack, again, who had and would have had my back with this dog’s care. I don’t have him, I know that, and this experience reminds that I don’t. After Jack passed, I took care of our dog until her end; I can do this one, too. It’s just another one of those experiences that glares in my face, “You’re alone in this” and I end up, again, initially questioning whether I can.
“I hope I can be the person my dog thinks I am” couldn’t be a truer statement for me. Who is rescuing whom?
To the here and now,
Tally
